


The Tears Bet

by Star_Crow



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Living Together, Memori AU, Movie Night, Movie Reference, bellarke AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Crow/pseuds/Star_Crow
Summary: Bellamy and Murphy knew that introducing their respective girlfriends to one another was probably a damaging decision on their part. Now, years after the first meeting, it's movie night in the student house and indecision is the word of the evening.





	The Tears Bet

“Bellamy! Clarke! Get back to your make-out session later. It’s time for the movie night!”

“Five seconds!” Clarke called back. Murphy heard the springs of the bed above groan as she flung herself up, followed by thundering footsteps as Clarke darted around her room. Probably looking for her foundation to cover up the evidence.

“1, Mississippi, 2, Mississippi, 3, Mississippi, Clarke Griffin is a liar, Mississippi,” Murphy sang, swinging from the bannister.

“Shut up, Murphy!” Bellamy yelled, throwing a fluffy pillow at him from the behind the Clarke's bedroom door. Bellamy had always had a good aim. Remarkably precise. John barely managed to duck before the sopping sponge hit the wall behind him with a satisfying smack.

“That better not have hit my painting,” Emori said dangerously, keeping her eyes fixated on the bowl of corn in the microwave. “Or there’s going to be trouble, Blake.”

Bellamy’s head popped around the door, dark eyes checking Emori’s beloved frame for damage. In his opinion, the ancient painting of the Egyptian pyramids that Emori had dug out of the local thrift shop was goddamn ugly, but he was too afraid to be brutally honest with Emori about it. She liked it and this house was one-quarter hers, she often reminded him. 

‘You don’t see me bitching about that stupid rifle over the fireplace, do you?’

‘It’s useful.’

‘In what way?’

‘I could kill a burglar with it.’

‘Please. The only thing you’d be killing with that thing is yourself.’

Maybe she had a point. Bellamy was a year away from graduating with his law degree. He’d be putting people in jail for doing that sort of thing. His mom had always taught him to lead by example so perhaps shooting someone with a decrepit hunting rifle wasn’t the best place to start.

“Clarke, you better hurry up or I’m gonna have to let Murphy pick the movie. Again,” Emori warned, rifling through the cupboards for the golden syrup. “I’m not sure I can survive another night of Star Wars.”

“Coming,” Clarke announced, pushing Murphy off of the bannister as she passed him. “There’s no way in hell we are watching Star Wars again.”

“But Star Wars is amazing,” Murphy argued, putting a handful of Emori’s popcorn into his mouth. “Back me up, Blake.”

“The original three were,” Bellamy conceded, shrugging a t-shirt on as he came down the stairs. “The prequels … . not so much. No matter how many Yoda fight scenes were in it. Sorry, Murphy.”

“Anakin was such a whiny bitch,” Clarke shot Bellamy a glare as he collapsed onto the couch beside her. Emori offered a cider, cracking the bottle lid off with her nails.

“Alright, whatever. Let’s just watch a movie.” Murphy crouched down infront of their cheap DVD player as Clarke flipped through the cases.

They were quiet for a moment. Nothing but the sounds of their existence. Murphy’s cursing as he tried to coax their player to life. Emori banging doors shut in the kitchen as she hunted for one item or another. The scrape of Clarke’s perfect nails against the discs. Bellamy tapping his heels on the carpet.

“Bingo,” Murphy smirked as the DVD player began clicking familiarly. “Got a movie, Griffin?”

“The Best Of Me?” she suggested, pulling the disc out of its sleeve.

“A Sparks movie? Are you serious?” Bellamy groaned, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

Emori shook her head. “I thought better of you.”

“It’s good.” Clarke insisted indignantly. “I guarantee atleast one of the boys will cry.”

The other girl considered, pulling her claimed bean bag from the corner of the living room. “Then it’s worth it. Last time John cried was at Marley and Me.”

Clarke jerked her chin at Bellamy. “He did, too.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s face was a picture of pure mortification.

“Aw,” she crooned. “Does Bellamy feel emasculated because he cried at a children’s movie?”

Bellamy scowled, turning his attention to Murphy who was accepting the DVD disc from Clarke. “Was it when the dog died?”

Murphy paused for a moment. “Yeah.”

“Same here.”

“What a cute, little heart-to-heart you two have got going on.” Emori smirked, pulling a fur blanket over herself.

“Yeah. Me and Murphy are best bros. Isn’t that right, John?”

“Don’t call me John. Only Emori gets to call me John.”

“Why can’t I call you John, too?” 

“Do you give me blowjobs on occasion?”

“No.”

“There’s your answer.”

Clarke crinkled her nose. “Gross.”

Emori looked at Clarke, dumbfounded. “Why are you saying gross? Shit, you and Blake here have done worse. Have you seen the stains on the couch?”

“Hold up, Emori. Give us some credit. That wasn’t us. We’ve never had sex on the couch,” Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “We thought it was you guys.”

“Much as I crave Emori’s company, we can normally make it up the stairs,” Murphy said defensively, taking up his position on said couch. “It wasn’t us.”

“So if it wasn’t you and it wasn’t us,” Clarke asked quizzically. “Who was it?”

Bellamy was silent for a moment before his face twisted in horror. “This couch …. it was Lincoln and Octavia’s before.”

There was a long silence between the two couples, all staring at one another in uncontained disgust.

“We’re burning the couch tomorrow.” Murphy announced.

“Agreed.” Clarke shuddered. “Put the movie on.”

Murphy fiddled around with the batteries and clicked the remote. Emori switched off the lights, their small, squat living room aglow with the light from the TV. 

“Hey, Bellamy,” Murphy hissed a few minutes in. “Move your ass. I’m practically sat on your lap.”

“I was here first. You move.” Bellamy replied smoothly, putting his arm around Clarke’s shoulders.

“You’re such a dick.” Murphy spat, accidentally digging his elbow into Bellamy’s ribs as he shifted over.

“Both of you shut the hell up and watch the film,” Emori snapped, leaning over to Clarke’s ear. “$20 says that Bellamy cries first.”

She glanced at Bellamy, already fixated on the screen.

“You’re on.”


End file.
